


Tony's Little Red Thong

by LagLemon



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Secret Identity, Steve finds out Tony is Iron Man, Tony's little red thong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LagLemon/pseuds/LagLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony blamed Pepper - this was her fault.  If she hadn't bought that magazine, this never would have happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Red Thong

**Author's Note:**

> After writing so much angst in my other fic, I decided to take a break for some angst and fluff. Took a shot at dabbling in the 616 universe too : ) I didn't use the same villain to out Tony as Iron Man, but I think Doc Ock needs more love so here he is (albeit in a small, minuscule role). Let me know if anything weird is in here! I might write more if I get the inspiration, but for now it's a one shot.

It was a stupid thing to do but honestly, he had never thought he would get caught; after all, who was going to pull him out of his armor without his permission? There were so many safety precautions in place, he would see anything coming before it happened, he had argued with himself time and time again. No one would see it, well aside from _him_ and on the rare occasion, Rhodey. And ok – fine. Pepper had seen it a handful of times, but that was only because she had walked into his workshop while he was getting into the suit, and his security system hadn’t thought to mention the breach until a split second before it had happened.

Tony had been cultivating his persona as Iron Man for years, and he was pretty damn good at keeping his life as CEO and his life as an Avenger separate. It was better that way. As an Avenger, no one could hurt him – and if something did happen, well he could always go from one life to the other.  Iron Man might live dangerously, but Tony Stark could mellow out a bit.  

And yes – he knew it had been a stupid decision to wear a goddamned red thong every time he walked out the door in the Iron Man armor, but it had just felt so  _right_.

The first thong had been a gag gift from Pepper, who had caught him ogling the damn thing in one of her magazines. It hadn’t been his fault he had seen the goddamned Playgirl – it had been sitting out in the open! _Anyone_ could have seen it.

Ok – fine. He was lying. He had gone digging through her purse, looking for breath mints because he had been hung over and wanted them in order to keep from breathing death-breath onto the Board of Directors – but Pepper had been the one with the magazine – it had been all _her_ fault. It wasn’t like he had expected to find something like that on _her_ ; she was usually so quiet about stuff like that. In hindsight, he should have known what it was considering he had bought his fair share of dirty magazines in the past.  She had even kept it wrapped up in the black plastic bag it had come in.

They had had a good laugh about it after she had finished flicking him in the ear. She hadn’t minded the snooping all that much; she had given him permission to get the breath mints from her purse in the first place, after all, so it wasn’t like he had been snooping without her knowing about it.  Hell, he had thought she had forgotten all about it until the day he had found her birthday gift to him on his desk.  The little red thong had been wrapped in tissue paper, laid out like a fancy piece of jewelry.  She had been more annoyed when she had walked in a few days later while the armor was disassembling and had caught an eyeful of his groin wrapped in that oh-so-familiar red lace.

He had never told anyone the _real_ reason why he had started to wear thongs. He didn’t think it was appropriate to tell Pepper about his fantasy of being stripped out of the armor and pinned to bed by a certain Super Soldier; that would have been awkward. She knew he liked Steve of course – both she and Rhodey had counselled him about his doomed crush over the years. She didn’t know how often he thought about it, so when she had seen him in the thong the first time, she had merely sighed at him and said, “I hope you have shock absorbers in that thing,” before gesturing to the groinplate.

He knew he had been pushing his luck ever since then, he just hadn’t expected it to be Steve who saw him outside of the armor.

 

The mission had been going fine – _great_ , even – and then Doc Ock had gone and set off a goddamned EMP bomb far above his level of expertise, having stolen it from some other super villain and it had knocked the suit out of the air as if it was a fly being clubbed with a swatter.

Tony was very, very pissed off. It was an _older_ model of the armor, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t stopped the problem in the newer iterations, but it still stung to be taken out so easily; it wasn’t his fault the damn thing had been underdeveloped. He had been halfway round the world when the call to Assemble had come in, and this had been the only suit available. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fought in armor that wasn’t working perfectly before – that was just a part of the job.

The _magnets_ had been unexpected, though. He had been forced to hit the security override plates and separate the armor before he had been ripped in half; the armor had disengaged, snapped to the magnet and crumpled into an irreparable ball of parts. And now here he was standing in front of a very confused looking Steve Rogers, wearing nothing but a lacy red silk thong.

Tony smiled sheepishly. “Uh…. _Surprise_?” he tried.

Steve’s eyes widened. “ _Mr. Stark_?”

Tony winced and resisted the urge to shield his groin; a draft went by and he tensed, letting his other hand drop back behind him. The open back of the thong was a little too revealing, he reflected as the cold nipped at his behind. Maybe he shouldn’t have picked this particular pair this morning. “Look,” Tony said, looking around to make sure they were still alone. God knows what Pepper would do if he got on the front page of the paper again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, Cap, but uh… do you have anything I could borrow?”

Steve’s face went bright red. “What?”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Well, that could have gone better. “You know what,” he grumbled, heading through the rubble towards the sidewalk. None of the stores on this street sold clothing, but maybe someone could spare a paper bag, or an apron; hell, maybe someone could hand him a newspaper.  He wasn't going to be pick at this point - unless, of course, someone handed him the funny-pages.   “Never mind. I’ll handle it,” he said, trying not to look Steve in the eye.   He made to open the first door he saw and nearly jumped out of his skin when Steve’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. Steve's leather gloves were soft and worn;  they squelched on contact with Tony's bare shoulder.

“Tony,” Steve hissed, tugging Tony away from the door. “Someone will _see_ you,”

Tony scowled. “That’s why I’m trying to buy pants!” He turned around to glare at Steve and found himself staggered when he saw that Steve was wrestling the chainmail shirt off of his body. “What are you _doing_?”

Steve pulled the shirt up and off. His hair was matted down and sweaty as he held the shirt out to Tony. “Here – use this,”

“We’re in the middle of _battle_ ,” Tony protested, shaking his head. “I can’t just take your armor,”

“Tony,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “You’re practically naked. I think I can handle being shirtless for a few minutes,”

“But,”

“No butts,” Steve said. He flushed red again when he realized what he had said and gave his head a shake. “Take the shirt,”

“No,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I’ll head back to the Quinjet,”

“It’s not here anymore,” Steve grumbled, rolling the shirt up. “Natasha took it when she asked if she could chase the Doc back to wherever the hell he came from.” He pounced before Tony could realize what he was doing and pulled the chainmail shirt over Tony’s head, tugging it into place. It hung around Tony’s body, covering the bottom half of his ass, hugging his hips like it was meant to be there. Steve ignored Tony’s squawk of indignation and eased the cowl in place over Tony’s face. “There. Now no one’s going to know who you are,”

Tony huffed out a breath. “You’re crazy,”

“I’m not crazy,” Steve said, pulling Tony’s arms through the sleeves when Tony didn’t do it himself. “I just don’t want you getting hurt,”

Tony scowled. So this was how it was going to be, huh? He was burden – the guy who couldn’t take care of himself all because he didn’t have the armor anymore. Was that it? Did Steve think he was useless? “I’m not a dainty flower,” he muttered under his breath.

“I know that,” Steve said with a laugh.

Steve’s chainmail was heavy on Tony’s shoulders, the weight hard to move. Tony shrugged, wanting to yank his arms out of Steve’s grasp, and buried his disappointment inside. He could deal with it later when he got back to his room. There was plenty of scotch waiting for him there. “Gee, thanks,”

Steve paused. He rested his hand against the hollow of Tony’s throat, and started fixing the twisted cowl. “There. You’re all set now,” he said with a soft smile. “Let’s go,”

“Sure,” Tony muttered.

“Come on,” Steve said, taking Tony by the hand. “I’ll get you back home.” He led Tony towards a SHIELD car, the one he had hijacked to get here in the first place, and unlocked it. “The battle’s over now– they’re going to be cleaning up for a while, so we might as well leave,”

“Yeah,” Tony grunted, settling himself in the passenger’s seat. He felt like an overgrown child wearing Steve’s armor. His arms hung in the sleeves, scrawny and weak compared to Steve’s. He hung his head as Steve put the car into drive and kept his head down. At least this way no one was going to see him.

When he looked up, as the car crawled to a stop, he expected to see the Avengers mansion. Instead, he caught sight of Steve’s brownstone. “This isn’t home,” he said, startled.

“It is for me,” Steve said, with a smile. He got out of the car and peered around, checking up the street and down it. “I figured it would be better to stop here first.  The traffic out there is brutal, and at least here there's clean clothing and food.  Is this ok?"

"Yeah," Tony sighed.  "It's fine.  You done checking the street out yet, or do I have to sit here for the rest of the night?"

"Alright, alright – we’re clear. Come on, let’s go inside,” Steve said, lifting up his shield. He blocked Tony from sight as Tony stepped out of the car and shadowed him up the stairs, still eyeing the sidewalks around them.

Tony scowled and wiggled his hand at Steve, his fingers hidden under the sleeve of chainmail. “Keys?”

“Oh!” Steve rummaged in his pocket and pulled his keys out. He shoved them into the lock a little harder than necessary and pulled the door open. “Come on in,”

Tony padded through the hallway and into the living room. He heard the door close behind him and kept moving, heading towards the phone. Pepper would probably come bring him some clothing if he asked nicely. Maybe she would even hurry if he sounded pathetic enough.

“Tony?”

Steve’s voice was gentle, as though he was trying to lure a small animal out from under a table. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, pursing his lips. “I just need some clothes and then I’ll get out of your hair,”

Steve’s hand was warm against Tony’s cheek. He eased the cowl down, rubbing his fingers over Tony’s chin. “I’ll get you something to wear, ok? Just hold on a sec,” he said.

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, but don’t bring me any of your old man clothes,” he chuckled.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, heading into his bedroom.

Tony hesitated and then followed after him. This was the first time he had been in Steve’s house. They were friends, but Steve usually spent his time at the Avengers Mansion rather than here; he had told Tony once that he kept it only because he wanted a space to head to when he needed to cool off. A look at the tables showed just how long it had been since anyone had been by. Tony ran a finger over the dresser beside him as he peered around Steve’s bedroom and wasn’t surprised when it came back covered in dust. The bedroom was plainly decorated, devoid of colour aside from the unsightly shade of beige on the walls. He caught sight of Steve’s rear end sticking out of the closet and sat down on the edge of the bed, smirking at it. “So this is where Captain America lives, huh?”

Steve sat up so suddenly, he banged his head on the corner of the closet door. He rubbed at his head, scowling as though he was thinking about ripping the closet door off and throwing it out the window. “Yeah, this is home,”

Tony tried not to take offense at that. He had always been under the impression that Steve thought the Avengers were his home. Clearly, he had been wrong. He cleared his throat and pulled the chainmail shirt up and over his head, feeling it between his fingers. He knew every inch of this armor; he had done the repairs a half-dozen times already. Its weight was perfectly balanced, just enough to be protective and moveable; you couldn’t have Captain America wandering around in something uselessly heavy, after all. He looked up, and saw that Steve was staring at him, his face flushed. “What?”

Steve swallowed what he was going to say and held out a handful of clothing. Most of it was too big, but it would do. Tony set the chainmail down on the mattress and paused, the clothing in his hands forgotten as realization dawned.

“You ok, Steve?” Tony asked, shifting in place. He could feel Steve’s gaze on his body but it wasn’t the same baffled look as usual.

The kiss was staggering; Steve’s lips were warm and wind chapped, tasting like salt and vinegar. He must have been snacking before the battle. Tony ran his tongue over his lower lip.

Steve pulled back, his pupils blown, and his eyes wide. “Oh,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “I shouldn’t have done that,”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” he rasped, his throat going dry. He had thought about Steve kissing him before, but he had never imagined it would actually happen.

Steve looked down at his feet. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he repeated, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“Why?” Tony asked. He reached up and motioned for Steve to move closer; he was ignored, Steve’s gaze still glued to the floor.

“I shouldn’t have done it because you’re here in my house – you’re my guest and you’re in your underwear. I’m taking advantage of the situation,” Steve mumbled.

“What if I don’t mind?”

Steve looked up blinking owlishly. “What?”

Tony smiled and gestured for Steve to move closer again; when he did, Tony put his hands on Steve’s hips, guiding him closer until Steve was standing with his knees between Tony’s. “What if I said I’ve kind of thought about this,”

“About _this_?” Steve leaned forwards, resting his knees against the mattress. “You have?”

Tony curled his into Steve’s shirt and reeled him in. He kissed Steve slowly, licking the salt from the super soldier’s lips. He pulled back to catch his breath and saw that Steve’s eyes were glued shut. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling his hand back. Had he read things wrong? Had it just been a spur of the moment thing? Had Steve not really meant it?

Steve let out a breath. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the sight of Tony sitting on his bed. He motioned to Tony’s body and seemed to flounder, unsure of what to do next. His knees pressed deeper into the mattress. Tony could feel the warmth of Steve’s legs against his thighs through the smooth leather of Steve’s pants.

“Can I touch you?” Steve asked after a minute of hesitation.

The question made Tony laugh. He grabbed Steve’s hand and put it on his hip, giving Steve another slow, lingering, kiss. “This is a yes,” he said when he moved away to take in another labored breath, “If you didn’t know,”

Steve smiled and ran his hand down Tony’s flank, his fingers playing idly with the spaghetti straps on the thong. His hands were calloused from hours and hours spent fighting, and large – boy were they large. He could cover the entire side of Tony’s hip with his hand.

“You going to do something with those hands of yours?” Tony asked, clearing his throat. His cheeks were flushed with heat just from seeing the look in Steve’s eyes. He could tell Steve wanted to do more – much, much more, but for some reason, Steve wasn’t saying anything. He shifted closer, until they were chest to chest and he was pressed up against the soft cotton of Steve’s undershirt.

“No,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to Tony’s lips.

“No?” Tony repeated, baffled. “What do you mean, _no_?”

“I mean,” Steve said, kissing Tony again, “I don’t want to do this right now,”

Tony swallowed hard. “You don’t,”

“No,” Steve said, stroking the side of Tony’s face. “I want to buy you dinner first,”

“Dinner,” Tony repeated, blinking through his confusion. “You want to buy me _dinner_?”

“I’ve wanted to buy you dinner for a while,” Steve said, his fingers rubbing against the soft hairs of Tony’s beard. “But there were two guys I liked equally, and well, I couldn’t exactly pick until now,”

Tony’s chest tightened. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and tried to smile. “Oh yeah?” Steve had liked someone else? Why hadn’t he known? Who was it?

Steve frowned at Tony and then smiled so brightly, Tony almost had to look away; he pushed Tony over with the flat of his hand and laid down on the bed beside him, rolling on his side. “Tony? You do realize I’m talking about you and Iron Man, right?”

Tony stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say that would make him sound like he had known what Steve was talking about all along. “Oh yeah – _yeah_ , I knew that,” he said, nodding along.

“You’re a really bad liar,” Steve teased, kissing Tony’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Tony said, rolling over. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. He had itched to do this again for a long time; he had done it once before. Steve had been unconscious, recovering from his time under the ice when it had happened. Tony hadn’t been creepy about it or anything – he had just petted Steve’s hair a little when Steve had started whimpering in his sleep; it had been extra soft then, like it was made out of silk; it was just as soft now.

Steve stroked his thumb over Tony’s chin again. “So, dinner, then?”

“Now?” Tony asked, still amazed that he could do this – that he could touch Steve – and that it was real. He wondered if he had hit his head when the EMP bomb had gone off; the panic that came from that thought alone was enough to make him pinch himself to be sure this wasn’t all a lie. Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to notice him pinching his arm fat between his thumb and finger.

“We could go now,” Steve agreed, letting his hand drop to the blankets. “I have a place in mind, but, well, you might not like it,”

Tony snorted. “Steve,” he said, rolling closer so his shoulder was bumping up against Steve’s. “You could take me anywhere, and I would be happy,”

“Really?” Steve blushed, rolling closer until his forehead was pressed up against Tony’s.

“Of course,” Tony said, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. He laughed when Steve rolled over onto his back and crawled over the blankets, resting his cheek against Steve’s shoulder. He smiled when Steve wrapped an arm around him and wiggled closer, shivering in the cold air. Maybe the thong hadn’t been such a mistake after all.      

 


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve head out on their date.

The restaurant Steve lead them to was a quaint little hole in the wall Tony wouldn’t have spotted if Steve hadn’t pointed it out.  Everyone else seemed to know about it; judging by the line-up and the pictures on the walls, people came here repeated and often, and no one seemed to be complaining about the two hour wait-time to get a table.  Tony didn’t mind the wait either; he got to sit with his thigh pressed up against Steve’s the entire time.  He wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else in the world.

They got a table at the back beside a wall covered in high-definition pictures of bees and birds.  Tony smirked at Steve overtop of his menu, waggling his eyebrows at him.

Steve rolled his eyes.  “What do you want to eat?” he asked, lifting his menu up.  It blocked his face, leaving Tony to stare at a list of meals.

Tony’s smile faltered.  Alright.  He could do this; it was just a date – a first date – and it was just Steve.  It wasn’t like he didn’t already know the guy; they had been friends for years, even if Steve hadn’t exactly known that he was Iron Man.  He picked up his menu and tried to casually peruse it while peeking overtop of his menu at Steve’s.

The waiter came by and dropped off some lemon water, and vanished without saying a word.

“The lasagna sounds nice,” Tony ventured, peering around the menu at Steve again.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his menu still firmly in place.  “I’m not sure what to get – everything here is really good,”

“You’ve been here before?”  Tony asked, setting his menu down flat on the table.  He alternated between staring at it and the back of Steve’s menu.  It wasn’t that interesting a read.  Yeah, there was a lot to see, but it didn’t exactly take that much effort to get through.  So why was Steve so engrossed in it?  You’d think the guy was reading a _novel_.

“I’ve come here a few times,” Steve said.  “The catfish was great,”

Tony flipped the menu to the next page and skimmed the fish section.  Ah, yes.  The Catfish was supposedly stewed in some kind of tomato and clam sauce.  It _could_ be interesting, he supposed, if he had something to drink with it – which of course he couldn’t do.  He pushed the drinks menu as far away as possible, neatly wedging it under the salt and pepper shakers.  “What about the clam chowder?” he said, taking a careful sip of water.  “Have you ever had that?”

“That one was great too,” Steve said.  He reached around the menu and felt along the table until he found his water.  He picked the glass up and pulled it behind the menu.

Tony frowned.  What the hell was _that_ about?  Had he done something wrong _already_?  He knew he wasn’t the best at dating – hell, he hadn’t really done much of it if you excluded the one-night-stands – but he couldn’t be _that_ bad.  He was being pleasant – wasn’t he?  Sweat trickled uncomfortably down the back of his neck.  Did he smell bad or something?  Had he forgotten to put on deodorant?  No – it couldn’t be that.  He had showered at Steve’s place, so it wasn’t like he was walking around smelling like a pair of old shoes.  So what was it?

Steve reached around the menu again and put the glass down on the table, nearly knocking it over.  He steadied it, still not looking around the menu and pulled his hand back.  “The cheeseburgers sound really good too,”

“Yeah,” Tony said, still sweating.  “They sound swell,”

“Swell?”  Steve laughed.  “I think you’ve been spending too much time with _me_ ,”

“Well,” Tony said, drumming his fingers on the menu, “I don’t see how _that’s_ possible,”

“Oh?”

“There’s never _too_ much Steve-time in my days,” Tony said, smiling at the menu in the vain hope that Steve might see him.  When the menu didn’t so much as twitch, he sighed and went back to staring at his own menu, his eyes going to the expansive list of salads.  Was it something he had said?  Or was it something Steve had seen?  He scowled at the list.  He was supposed to be charming, goddamn it!  Why couldn’t he be _charming_?

“Hm, what about a salad?”  Steve said, flipping pages.  The menu didn’t so much as _tilt_ in his hands.

“Salad for _dinner_?”  Tony snorted, trying to be lighthearted.  “What – do you think I need to watch my weight or something?”  The second the joke left his mouth, he regretted it, not because it wasn’t funny – but because it could very well be the truth.  He glanced down at his stomach, suddenly acutely aware of the spare-tire around his middle.  He hadn’t really paid all that much attention to it over the years; the women he had slept with hadn’t really cared about his weight – they had been more interested in his pocket book.  But this was Steve.  Did _Steve_ care about it?  Was _that_ why he had asked for a date instead of simply tearing his clothing off?  Was he repulsed by Tony’s flabby body?

Steve laughed.  “Very funny,” he said, reaching for his water glass.

Tony reached out and pushed the glass out of reach, snagging Steve by the wrist.  He ran his thumb over the top of Steve’s knuckles.  “This is nice,”

Steve’s hand stiffened; the menu wobbled.  “Uh, yeah,” Steve said, clearing his throat.  “It is – it’s really _nice_.”

“Is there something wrong?”  Tony asked in exasperation.  “Did I do something?  Did you not want to – _oh_.”  He let go of Steve’s hand and pulled his back across the table, settling it on the edge of the table, horrified that he hadn't caught on faster.  “Right.  Sorry.  We didn’t talk about it, but I just assumed – sorry.  I didn’t realize,”

“Assumed what?”  Steve lowered the menu and peered over top of it.  The part of his face Tony could see was faintly pink and sweaty.

“Did you not want to tell anyone about this?”  Tony asked.  “I mean, I know I’ve got kind of a reputation,”

“A reputation?”  Steve lifted the menu back up, disappearing from sight.  “What are you – oh!  No – no.  I don’t care about that,”

“Well then why aren’t you looking at me,” Tony grumbled, trying resolutely not to scowl.  He picked up his glass and sipped at his water for lack of anything better to do.

“I can’t look at you right now,” Steve said, his voice strained.

“You can’t?” Tony said.  The knot in his stomach, a constant companion of his for years, came roaring back to life.  Great.  It was his flabby body after all.  “Right.”

“It’s not – I mean, I’m not saying that I don’t want to look at you,” Steve said hastily, lowering the menu again by a fraction of an inch.  “It’s just… well,”

“Well, what?”  Tony said, setting his water down.

The waiter approached and smiled at the two of them.  “Are you ready to order?”

“No,” Steve croaked, “Can you give us a few more minutes,”

“Certainly, sir,” the waiter said, stepping away from the table.

“Steve,” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Do you not want to be here?”

“What?”  Steve nearly dropped his menu.  He lowered it again, peering over it with wide eyes.  “I want to be here.  Of _course_ I want to be here,”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I _can’t_ ,” Steve said, his voice a desperate squeak.

“Steve,”

“I keep seeing you in it,” Steve muttered, lifting the menu back up so that he could hide his face.  “It’s hard to concentrate,”

“ _What_?”  Tony stared blankly at the menu in Steve’s hands.  What was Steve – _oh_.  His smile slowly turned predatory.  He casually stretched and let his foot bump against Steve’s thigh. 

Steve jumped in his seat, nearly throwing the menu into the air.

“I get it,” Tony said, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm.  “You’re thinking about what I’m _wearing_.”  He batted his eyelashes.  “So you _did_ like it,”

“Of _course_ I liked it,” Steve mumbled, steadying the menu.

“So you _do_ like me,”

“Of _course_ I like you,” Steve said, lowering the menu again.  The tips of his ears were beet red.  “I really, _really_ like you.  That's why I asked you out.  That's why we’re on a _date_ ,”

“So lower the damn menu,” Tony chuckled.  “I’m not going to bite, you know,”

Steve lowered the menu slowly.  His expression was schooled, but even his patented Captain America face couldn’t disguise how nervous he was.  He had sweated through his shirt in the front and all through the armpits; his neck was a lovely shade of pink.  He cleared his throat shrilly when Tony rubbed his foot against his thigh again.  “So _burgers_?”

Tony cocked an eyebrow.  “Feeling like you want some _meat_ in you?”

Steve’s eyes widened.  He grabbed his glass and chugged the water down.

“So how do you feel about getting take-out?”  Tony asked as the waiter walked towards the table.

“Very good,” Steve croaked, clearing his throat again.  He turned to the waiter, his smile practically blinding.  “Hi again.  Can we get two cheeseburgers to go – and can I get two piece of chocolate cake too?”

“You already _have_ dessert waiting for you at home,” Tony murmured into his hand as the waiter walked away, still scribbling their order down on his notepad.

Steve’s ears went beet red again.  “ _Tony_ ,”

“What?”  Tony said with a smile.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be more in this after all hahah. I was far too amused with this chapter :D


End file.
